


You

by JPA



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Alternate Universe - Werewolves Are Known, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Grieving, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-05
Updated: 2017-11-05
Packaged: 2019-01-29 15:14:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12633735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JPA/pseuds/JPA
Summary: There are two different ways a person can find out who their soulmate is. The first way to find out—the common, more ideal way of finding out who your intended is—is by kissing them. The only other way to identify your soulmate is to watch them die. If an individual witnesses their soulmate’s death, they will experience whatever their soulmate is feeling—physically and emotionally—as the death takes place.





	You

**Author's Note:**

> Lately, I've been weak for Steter, so I decided to write a little soulmate au thing! Enjoy!

_Excerpt from Soulmates for Dummies, Introduction_

_Because scientists have yet to find out just what classifies a person as one half of a soul bond, the number of soulmate pairs in the world is unidentifiable. There are no signs that a person is one half of a pair until they have officially sealed the soulmate bond. Since the number of soul bonds fluctuates at an unpredictable rate, there is no way to collect data that would accurately tell us the percentage of soulmate pairs in the world._

-

Peter had never been a good man. Of course, he didn’t come out of the womb as the twisted monster he was viewed as today, but he had always seemed to toe the line when it came to what was right and what was wrong.

It was after the fire that he had charged over the line—a feral, enraged lunatic hurling himself past the invisible barrier without any second thoughts. Phantom screams drowned out the agonized scream of his own niece as he tore into her flesh. Whispers of flame caressed his skin, making it impossible for him to feel the way the blood of his enemies clung to his body.

Later, hours after the blind rage had passed, he would convince himself that his niece had been an enemy, too. An ugly, angry voice soothed any guilt he should have felt.

_She abandoned you,_ it hissed. _She didn’t care about you—her own pack. An alpha who doesn’t care about their pack is no better than the hunters that killed your family._

In turn, a different, more vulnerable voice spoke. _She was your family,_ it sobbed.

_No,_ the first voice replied, _family would have stayed._

-

It had been disappointing when Stiles refused the bite. Peter should have predicted the boy’s response but there was something about the boy that made him unreadable. There was an electric air that surrounded the teenager, something Peter had noticed the first time he’d seen the boy.

Whatever it was that made the boy different, it set Peter’s wolf on edge.

-

_Excerpt from Chapter 9: Advantages of the Supernatural Community_

_Many creatures of the supernatural community claim to have “sensed” something different about their soulmate before identifying them as such. There is no actual explanation why this occurs. Some theorize it is a supernatural creature’s connection to magic that gives them this small advantage._

-

It took Peter dying for him to realize just what it was that made Stiles different.

Neither the phantom screams that plagued his head nor his own agonized roars could drown out the sound of his soulmates panicked cries of pain. On fire, and about to get his throat torn out by his nephew, Peter staggered towards the human boy. The boy had shouted something, his fingers digging and twisting into the dirt in front of him.

Right before the cold blackness of death consumed him, Peter reached out to Stiles, opening his mouth in one last, distraught roar.

-

_Excerpt from Chapter 10: Finding Your Soulmate_

_There are two different ways a person can find out who their soulmate is. The first way to find out—the common, more ideal way of finding out who your intended is—is by kissing them._

_The only other way to identify your soulmate is to watch them die. If an individual witnesses their soulmate’s death, they will experience whatever their soulmate is feeling—physically and emotionally—as the death takes place._

_As far as we know, the second scenario is a rare occurrence, and recent studies have found that the majority of people who find their soulmate in this manner are a part of the supernatural community._

-

Death was quiet, until it wasn’t. He had known, of course, that he’d be brought back to life by the Martin girl, but the revelation that he had a soulmate had… distracted him.

Waking up from what was supposed to be eternal slumber took time. Even before taking his first breath of resurrection, Peter had been starting to regain an awareness of his existence.

It started with a voice. Not one of _those_ voices. It was harsher than the angry voice that had planted itself in his head. It was sad, but it was not vulnerable. It was a voice he had heard before, but he couldn’t quite place whose it was. The name of the person was on the tip of his tongue, but, really, he had barely even known his own name at the time, so there was no way he could have figured it out.

As the voice grew more profound, so did Peter’s awareness. Flashes of his life, memories of family and fire, flickered through his mind. Faces of his family and childhood friends, the inconvenience of school and teenage hormones, the passing of his parents.

The fire.

The abandonment.

The murder.

The _soulmate._

Peter reeled as the memory of Stiles washed over him like a harsh wind. He was suddenly fully aware of himself, and he stood, quiet, in a dream world made up of a single rose bush. A boy, tall and lanky, burrowed himself in the thorns of Peter’s mind. The boy’s eyes—eyes that were as bright as the sun—stared into a dark abyss, flickering around. It was as if the boy was searching for something… or perhaps, someone.

At that thought, those ember eyes twitched, darting to look right into Peter’s own eyes.

“Come back.”

-

_Excerpt from Chapter 11: Managing Loss_

_Following the death of their soulmate, an individual may experience hallucinations, permanent loss of speech or sight, suicidal thoughts, an unhealthy amount of weight loss, or loss of control. While there are medicines an individual may take to lessen the chances of these effects, it is widely known that most of them are little to no help._

_Most doctors recommend spending time with friends and family or going to an outreach group. Social interaction is one of the most important keys to recovering from the loss of a soulmate._

_-_

It had only been a couple of months since Stiles had helped Scott and Derek kill Peter but, to Stiles, it felt like years had passed.

After the deed, Stiles had been rushed home by a very confused and concerned Scott. Derek stayed at the preserve to take care of the body, but his knowing eyes hadn’t left Stiles until the shaking teen had been ushered into the jeep.

Stiles had spent long, fitful days in his room for the next week and a half. He’d refused to talk with Scott or anyone else, except for his father _._ Looks of pity and words of condolences were the last things Stiles had needed.

Not having to explain to his father why he was such a mess had helped a little. His father knew why Stiles was in the state that he was in, the man also having the experience of losing his other half. Him understand was the reason why, when he had seen Stiles curled up on the floor with his hands covering his head, no explanation was needed.

There was nothing John could’ve said or done to stop the trauma Stiles had already experienced, so the man had picked Stiles up and placed him on the bed. He’d left the room, coming back seconds later with the old rocking chair from the storage room and a stack of Claudia’s favorite books. He’d sat by Stiles’ bed, holding his sons hand as he read page after page.

They had spent the next few days like that. John took a short leave from work, making sure Stiles ate and had some sort of human interaction. At first, he hadn’t asked any questions, wanting to be anything but intrusive, but he finally spoke up on the fifth day of Stiles’ breakdown.

“Did you know them?” John asked, voice gentle.

“Yes—no—yes?” Stiles had croaked, unsure. “He was the feral werewolf that bit Scott.”

“Okay,” a pause, and then, “Thanks for telling me.”

“Will it always feel like this? Like, like there’s this… this…”

John squeezed Stiles’ hand, frowning, “Like you’re missing a limb you didn’t even know you had?”

“Yeah.”

John had ended up telling Stiles that there was no clear answer. Everyone was different, he’d said. Stiles had seen through the lie, though. He knew that the real answer was _yes._

_-_

_Excerpt from Chapter 11: Managing Loss_

_The most common side effect of losing a soulmate is hallucinating. Hallucinating one’s dead soulmate is not unusual, especially for individuals who shut themselves in or are a part of the supernatural community._

-

When Stiles wakes up, something feels… off. Instead of waking up to his own screams and a pillow drenched in sweat and tears, he opens his eyes to the gentle ring of his phone alarm. His pillow feels smooth beneath his cheek and he doesn’t have to fight to untangle himself from the layers of unusually cooperative covers.

He blinks a couple of times, thinking that he must be dreaming. After pinching himself at least three times, he decides that surely there’s something bad that’s going to happen today. Stiles had had nightmares since the day Peter had—

Stiles closes his eyes, taking a deep breath. There’s no use in thinking about things like that, after all.

He ends up going to the park. He doesn’t go out much on the weekends, not unless there’s some sort of supernatural emergency. Most weekends, he just sits in his room and stares out the window.

Sometimes, though, on days like these, he goes to the park with a good book, sits down in an empty pavilion, and reads.

Once he arrives at the park, he enters the nearest pavilion and plops down at one of the tables. He opens his book, flipping through the pages to get to where he’d left off. When he finally finds his spot, he starts to read, slowly letting his eyes soak up each sentence as they travel down the page he’s on.

“A romance novel. Really, Stiles?” a voice taunts. “I can’t say that I’m impressed.”

“You’re not real,” Stiles harrumphs, pointedly keeping his eyes on the page.

“Well, this is news to me,” Imaginary Peter replies, and even though Stiles isn’t looking, he knows one of Imaginary Peter’s perfect eyebrows is arched in question.

“Really? Shocking,” Stiles snips, “I wouldn’t think so, since, you know, this is the hundredth time I’ve had this conversation with you—who is, in fact, a figment of my imagination.”

Imaginary Peter chuckles, saying nothing at first. He watches, leaning up against one of the old oak trees just outside of the pavilion. Finally, he speaks, “I’m not sure if I should be flattered or not. You imagine me often, but you don’t seem to enjoy it very much.”

“Because imagining an insane werewolf is such an enjoyable pastime.”

“Birds of a feather flock together.”

Stiles looks up from his book, eyes sharp, “Did you just call me insane?”

“You’re the one saying I’m not real.”

“You’re not.”

“Stiles,” Peter hums, examining his nails, “I thought you were smarter than this.”

Stiles stares, eyes gleaming with something akin to lunacy. It was fitting, Peter thought, that he would drive his own soulmate to madness. He knew, though, that insanity could not be created from nothing. It was always there, buried deep in someone’s mind, heart, and soul _._ Losing Peter hadn’t been the beginning of Stiles’ insanity, only the climax of it.

“Even in death, I could hear you,” Peter sighs, as if he was sharing a long-held secret with a trusted friend. “At first, there was only silence. It was dark and nothing made sense. It wasn’t cold or warm.  I couldn’t remember who or what I was. I don’t know how long it was until there was finally a spark of light, flickering in the darkness. It went out almost as soon as it had appeared. Honestly, I thought I’d imagined it.

“That’s when I heard a voice, _your_ voice. At the time, I didn’t know it belonged to you. I was confused, disoriented. The voice was so angry, so desperate for something that I couldn’t give it. It echoed through my body as if I’d been hallowed out. It—”

“Just—shut up! You’re not real! I’ve had enough of this!” Stiles suddenly yells, shaking his head disbelievingly.

Peter ignores him, continuing, “It was calling for me, begging me to come back. That was you, Stiles. I heard your prayers and now I’ve come to answer them.”

“No! You’re wrong, you’re wrong, you’re—”

“—here,” Peter finishes for the distressed boy. “I’m here and real, and I’ll kill anyone who tries to stop me from staying by your side.”

A sickening jolt of desire shoots through Stiles’ body, legs shaking as he attempts to keep himself standing. Peter notices this, scenting the air with his chin slightly tilted as he takes a slow breath. His eyes flash, tongue swiftly brushing over his bottom lip as he stares at Stiles. Stiles follows the movement, enraptured.

Peter notices that, too. Smirking, the older man raises an eyebrow, “Do you like that, Stiles? The fact that no matter how hard anyone tries, no one will be able to tear me away from you.” Peter takes a step towards Stiles as he speaks. “Even if I die again,” he takes another step, “and again and again—I’ll always return—”

Stiles is frozen where he stands. He wants to run, to scream, to close his eyes, but he can’t do anything but look at the approaching werewolf.

“—and it will always be you who I go to,” Peter finishes, inching closer.

“Even if I’m the one who kills you?” Stiles asks, voice shaking.

A surprised laugh escapes Peter. He shifts even closer to Stiles, their lips now only centimeters away from brushing against each other. They both feel the impatient thrum of their soul bond, waiting to be snapped in place by one little kiss.

“Especially if it’s you,” Peter whispers, smiling.

 


End file.
